


last party

by unlovelySara



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gen, I had this idea on my mind for 4 goddamn years - can you believe it??, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 00:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17714897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlovelySara/pseuds/unlovelySara
Summary: “He let out a low chuckle, almost imperceptible – talking about the party as if it was some kind of ghost haunting him?Silly, silly man.”





	last party

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, read this mess with the title track playing in the background: you can’t even imagine how much better this silly piece of fiction becomes if you follow my previous advice (seriously, do it!)
> 
> if you wanna have a chat with me about these 4 dorks – and their respective movie counterparts – you can find me  
> -on Tumblr: @stars-open-among-the-lilies  
> -on Instagram: @butcheredfromtime (private profile but I’ll accept you, I promise!)

_It’s about, in a sense, Freddie Mercury when he found out he was HIV positive, and had this very strong reaction that kind of manifested into him closing himself up in a nightclub for a couple days and having this mad party._  
_It’s probably a myth, I don’t know how true it is, but certainly it’s a story that’s quite well-known. It made me think about when you find out terrible news, how do you deal with it?_  
_I wanted to put that into a song as best I could, and tried to make it as intimate as possible and this thing that I crafted and the way I produced it, I tried to make it as out-of-context of contemporary pop music as I could make it._  
_And it’s weird because with pop music, you have a particular opportunity to describe the things that are really hard to describe a normal daily life or normal words. This strange combination of terrible news and that rush of adrenaline – I know because in my life I’ve had all these awful things happen but this strange rush of adrenaline at the same time and trying to convey that in a song is almost one of the most representative ways of that strange clash of emotions._  
[…] _I was afraid that “Last Party” would endanger some of my relationships or that I would be invading sacred territory, as far as Brian May or Roger Taylor, who I know personally._  
_I sent them the song in advance, and they luckily loved it and gave me their approval._

**― Mika**

[⏯ **_Last Party_ – Mika**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvuOw8Z0Pwg)

  


_there’s a party going on in here_  
_it’s been happening for many years_  
_you weren’t invited and don’t want to stay_  
_but keep partying anyway_

The man closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood; maybe acting like this would finally make the party understand that following him everywhere with all that lively chatter and sparkly confetti wasn’t the wisest thing to do…  
_Maybe._  


_DJ’s playing the familiar tune_  
_got them dancing, shaking up the room_  
_they hear the beat but they don’t know the words_

He let out a low chuckle, almost imperceptible – talking about the party as if it was some kind of ghost haunting him?  
_Silly, silly man._  
But there he was, locked inside one of the many rooms his mansion could offer, lost in the dim light and the sudden realization that he – _the host, of all people!_ – was deliberately ignoring all those lovely people that had actually bothered to accept his invitation.  
_How could they possibly say no to you, though?_  
He shrugged off that inner monologue and proceeded to flop on an armchair, his entire attention already focused on turning a lampshade on and off for a couple of times: it was an exquisite Art Déco artifact, spotted by Jim in a Sotheby’s catalogue and snatched by yours truly in a hard-fought auction sale – the butterfly motif and the rich shades that its glazed, glassy tiles were letting dance on the walls had been totally worth it.  


“What’s the occasion, this time?” was the question that almost everybody had asked him, once news of the imminent party had finally escaped Garden Lodge’s headquarters.  
He couldn’t explain it – he just felt like it.  
But this time rivers of Moët & Chandon seemed to never stop flowing – all with the right amount of chilliness, the little mementos offered to some lucky attendees were more fabulous and expensive than ever, and the music was becoming louder and louder at each change of track.  
Right now somebody had chosen to shamelessly blast one of his band’s tunes – he could hear the ornaments downstairs all tinkling to the thunderous sound of their rhythmic section.

_this is the saddest song I’ve ever heard_

(He knew bloody well the reason why he had decided to give this party; however, admitting it would have meant having to face the truth, and that could still wait a day or two – _maybe even three or four_.) 

_if you could look into the future, would ya?_  
_if you could see it, would you even want to?_

_“If now you want to leave me, my dear, I’ll understand.”_  
_“Nonsense, Freddie: if you’ll have me, I’ll stick with you until the very end.”_

He sighed: maybe going back to the living room for a little while would have helped – at least Jim wouldn’t have worried about him having an anxiety attack in the midst of the bacchanal…  
His gaze fell on the ring he was wearing on his wedding finger: when had he become so lucky?  
He still couldn’t believe he could wake up every morning, look out of his bedroom window and be welcomed by Jim’s warm smile, blossoming among the azaleas, freesias and yellow roses after Freddie had cheerfully yelled a loud _‘Cooee!’_ in his direction.  


(He didn’t want _that_ to end.)

_got a feeling that there’s bad news coming_  
_but I don’t want to find it out_

Brian found him on the stairs, wearing his best smile and trotting down every step with regal stride and his head held high.  
“Is everything good, Fred?” he inquired, while the other man quickly proceeded to encircle his shoulder with an arm.  
“Of course, darling! Why are you asking me such a silly question?” the singer started to pull him downstairs, and Brian promptly followed his lead.  
“It’s nothing, just Phoebe asking me if I had seen you – he seemed a bit restless, so I thought-”  
“Shit, could that man be any more _petulant_ ? I get it, I’m the master of the house and the one who gave the party, but one would think I’d be able to take a leak without everything crumbling down!” he sighed “He shouldn’t have bothered you, I’m sorry”  
“He didn’t bother me at all, Fred; I actually offered to look for you”  
“… of course you did” Freddie nudged him, letting out a cheeky laughter “Still, I’m sorry you’ve been taken from the party – at least I hope you were enjoying it?”  
“I was, indeed” the guitarist flagged down a waiter, took a couple of flutes from the tray he was holding and handed one of them to his bandmate “Biggest one you’ve ever given, if I’m not mistaken”  
“You’re right – this calls for a toast”  
“What, me making a correct assumption?” Brian leaned against the banister with a slight smirk, and Freddie promptly did the same.  
“No, darling, you’re not Roger” he dead-panned, his smile growing bigger when his friend burst into laughter and they clinked their glasses together “Obviously, I was talking about my impeccable ability in organizing parties as opulent and majestic as this one”  
“You have your staff to give credit for this kind of things…”  
“Well, I’m deeply sorry to disappoint you, but this time I stepped in and took care of it all by myself… _almost_ – we’re talking about a solid 90% of the whole organization.”  
“Why not letting Jim, Phoebe and Joe handle it? They usually do a fairly good job with-”  
“ _I just felt like it._ ”

_if it’s the end of the world, let’s party_  
_like it’s the end of the world, let’s party_  
_wrap your arms around everybody_  
_if we’re all gonna die, let’s party_

Freddie abruptly resumed to walk, leaving Brian behind, and stopped when he finally reached the living room threshold: he gazed at the people dancing on the tables, the bold fashion choices everybody had taken, the lavish decorations he had chosen – and sighed.  
“Are you sure you’re all good, Fred?”  
Brian had finally reached him and now was carefully studying his expression.  
“Yes, I’m fine – just admiring my work, I guess”  
“Well, should your current career suddenly fail, you could give this one a chance”  
“That’s not a bad idea – at least it’d be more profitable than teaching Astrophysics, right?” he retorted, gaining a playful slap on the back by Brian.  
“When you’re finished with your _lovely_ jabs, may I suggest you to relax and enjoy your work? Everybody’s having fun and you deserve to have it as well – you look awfully tired, Fred”  
“What a nice way to tell me I look like shit, _Maggie_ ”  
“You know that’s not what I meant, _Melina_ ”  
“Oh, come on, Brian! Don’t be such a _bore_ ! You can quit with all your babysitting – I already told you I’m fine, seriously”  
“ _Babysitting_ ? I thought I was your caregiver…” the guitarist raised an eyebrow, immediately gaining a look full of shock.  
“We’re only ten months apart, you disrespectful bastard!” Freddie shoved him, in between genuine laughs “Now go away, before I hit you with my ear trumpet!”  
Brian smiled at him, gave him a little nod with his head and did as he had just suggested, finally disappearing among the colorful crowd.

_let’s party, let’s party_

After greeting a few guests and making sure that they were having a good time, Freddie made a beeline for the front door; he was sure some fresh air could do him good and, stepping outside, he let out a content sigh.  
It didn’t look like the party had decided to follow him.

_who can I blame with everything I’ve done?_  
_is this the price we pay for too much fun?_

“Escaped from the fancy courtiers to have a fag too?”  
A startled Freddie turned on his heel and met the amused smirk of another one of his bandmates.  
“We’re the only gentlemen here, Legendary Drummer of Cornwall – oh, wait! That means the third one has already blown you, huh? Pity.”  
“… I was _smoking_ ”  
“I know it – just taking the piss out of you” Freddie stuck his tongue in his direction, snatching a cigarette from the packet Roger was still holding.  
“Give it back! You don’t even inhale”  
“I restrained myself from commenting your poor decision of wearing sunglasses even at 11 P.M. – looking like a total ass, I must add – so I’d like for you to do the same with my way of smoking, darling”  
“You-you know it’s because of my eyes, they-”  
“ _It’s pitch dark_ , Rog: I’m not buying this shit – in fact, _nobody does_ ”  
“… Fuck off”  
“Right back at you, my friend” the singer grinned, going near him and lighting his cigarette with the lighter Roger was handing him. 

_don’t be misled, it’s not a twist of fate_  
_it’s just what happens when you stay out late_

“… At least now Phoebe will be relieved to know that the cats didn’t try to sacrifice their owner in order to get better snacks”  
“He hassled you too?! Where the fuck was I supposed to be?” Freddie snorted, his voice almost indignant “Did he really think I would have abandoned my guests? _At my own party_ ?”  
“You _did_ show up 40 minutes after everybody…”  
“ _Oh, bother_ ! As if I never did it before…” he shook his head “Let’s hope he didn’t pester Deacy as well…”  
“Hey! What does that even mean?!”  
“You know Deacy’s my favourite – I wouldn’t want to have his good spirits shattered by that nuisance of Phoebe”  
“Jeez, thanks for your concern”  
“ _Boo-hoo_ , you’re gonna get over it… eventually” Freddie crushed his cigarette under a shoe, then turned to face the drummer: the two shared a smirk full of complicity and dissolved in giggles.  
“I think I’ll head inside; what about you?”  
“Gonna have another one – more like _a couple_ ”  
“Please, don’t inhale too much”  
“Want me to call Phoebe and tell him you’re here?”  
“You would never dare!”  
“ _Try me_ ”  
“… Hope you’re gonna choke on those damn cigs of yours, darling! Have a nice evening!”  
“Love you too, Fred” Roger waved the packet to say goodbye and resumed to watch the hedges and bushes that Jim had trimmed – more attentively than usual – in preparation for the party.  
“Oh, and one last thing!”  
At those words, Roger’s head turned around so quickly he almost hurt himself in the process: Freddie was standing in front of him, hands on his hips and head defiantly held high.  
“I already provide my cats with the best meals they could ever get, so stop spreading false rumours about me not being the most caring, considerate cat owner on this planet!”  
“I would never” the drummer raised his hands like a sign of surrender.  
“You’d better” and, thus said, the host theatrically spun on his heel and made his way to the mansion – he didn’t go too far, though.  
“Fred?”  
“Yes?”  
“John’s my favourite too.” Roger casually admitted, not looking him in the eye.  
Freddie immediately gave him a bright grin and, muttering something along the lines of _‘and water is wet!’_ , finally returned inside.

(He didn’t notice his friend looking at his silhouette with a sad smile.)

_Dear old Freddie, always straining himself to give others the best time of their lives and yet failing to not let this urge consume his own spirit…_

_so raise your glasses, all my kings and queens_  
_smash the chandelier to smithereens_

Once inside, the man accepted the umpteenth flute that one of the waiters – once he had spotted him – had hastened to hand him and, after clinking it with some random attendees, quickly sneaked away, already on the lookout for a friendly face.  
It didn’t take him too long to find it.

_who knew that mercury could rise so fast?_

Freddie didn’t need to spin around to recognize the man that had just approached him – the gentle touch on his shoulder spoke volumes.  
He turned to his left and there he was, his eyes crinkled with mirth and a sweet smile tugging at his lips.  
“There’s the man of the hour!” John exclaimed, affectionately squeezing his shoulder.  
“Please, Johnny, don’t tell me Phoebe has pestered you with the task of looking for me”  
“What are you talkin’ about? I haven’t crossed paths with him ever since he let me in the house…”  
“Well, looks like he might escape my project of training my furry babies to maul him…”  
“… Do I even want to know what you’re mumbling?”  
“No, no you don’t” the singer let out a relieved sigh and finally beamed at him “But enough about me: how are _you_ ? And how’s Ronnie? I still haven’t bumped into her”  
“Quite difficult to do it, since she stayed at home: Joshua got the chicken pox and so we quarantined him… luckily, Robert is old enough to help his mother” the bass player stopped to sip some champagne “Actually, it was the children who encouraged me to come here… It didn’t seem right to let Ronnie handle everything”  
“You have such wise kids, Deacy: this party will be the talk of the town for many weeks – missing it would have been a huge regret to stomach”  
“Yes, I’m glad I came” 

_enjoy the party ‘cause this is our last_

“Did the sunspots heal correctly?” John spoke again after a while, gaining a puzzled look by his bandmate.  
“The _what_ ?”  
“The _sunspots_ ” the bassist gave a nod in his leg’s direction “I noticed ‘em at your birthday party, Jim told me you had some kind of allergic reaction to UVA rays?”  
“Oh, those” Freddie looked away, his attention captured by Jim’s laughter – he was chatting with Joe and Roger and they all seemed to be in good spirits.  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it – that’s none of my business” John quickly apologized, looking down.  
“S’not a problem” the singer abandoned his empty glass on a tray and gave him half a hug to reassure him “But yes, they healed alright… Thanks for asking, I had long forgotten about it”  
“That’s great, it means you’re over it”  
“Yes, I am” he replied, his gaze returning on Jim’s carefree smile – _god, how he loved him._  
He leaned against the doorframe, being careful to subtly shift his weight on the leg that wasn’t hurting like hell.

_if you could look into the future, would ya?_  
_if you could see it, would you even want to?_

John studied his friend’s face: his high cheekbones looked sharper than usual, and under his eyes he had a pair of dark circles that towered over his complexion – the tan had faded almost entirely, a faraway memory of brighter, lighter days.  
“That’s the last party of this scale that I’m going to give, you know?” Freddie had suddenly spoken his mind “Don’t misunderstand me, Deacy – I’ll still have my birthday parties and Christmas dinners, God forbid me from not hosting them! – but something like this… never again”  
The bass player turned to face him, shooting him an inquisitive glare, but the other man had already looked away.  
“Well, that explains why you outdid yourself…” he offered, immediately gaining a huge beam.  
“Exactly, I wanted to go out with a bang! Think I was able to achieve this effect?”  
“Dunno about the others, but you surely impressed this old man – and I, for my part, have witnessed the infamous New Orleans celebration…”  
“Hush, Deacy! What happens in New Orleans, stays in New Orleans!” Freddie burst into laughter, and he soon followed.  
(He felt something tugging at the back of his mind, and something stuck down his throat too – he couldn’t spit it out, nor swallow it, but it was _there_.)

_Why now, of all times?_

_got a feeling that there’s bad news coming_  
_but I don’t want to find it out_

“I think I’m going to head upstairs to powder my nose…”  
“Is that really _necessary_ ?” John had raised an eyebrow, and the other man replied by nudging him.  
“Come on, what did you understand? It was just a polite way to tell you that I need to take a piss, darling!” he had chuckled again “What’s with all of you, this evening? Afraid I can’t properly take care of myself?”  
“That’s why you mentioned Phoebe before, right? Was he looking for you? Maybe he needed to tell you something import-”  
“He needed to piss off all my guests, _that’s what he needed to do_ ! But he will have to face my wrath – not all of that, since he had the decency to not bother my favourite bandmate, but still-”  
“Your… _favourite bandmate_ ?”  
“Of course you are, silly! Did I ever give you any reason to assume the opposite?”  
“No, but-”  
“No _‘but’_ s! It’s simple as that, so stop it” the singer gave him a pat on the shoulder, then started to head toward the stairs “Now I really must fly upstairs – you wouldn’t want a horrible accident on your conscience, would you?”  
“But I-I thought your favourite bandmate was Roger…”  
“Are you having an identity crisis right now? I do not go by the name of John Richard Deacon…”  
“Oh, come on! Roger’s not my favourite” John scoffed, leaning against the banister and glancing up at his friend.  
“He may not be yours, but you surely are _his_ ” Freddie remarked, letting out the most sincere laughter of the entire evening – he hadn’t even bothered to cover his mouth as he always did – when the other man had looked at him as if he had grown another head “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him he’s not the apple of your eye”  
“Take care, Freddie” the younger man had promptly brushed him off, receiving a blatant wink from the front-man that immediately made him smile brightly.

(Someday Freddie would finally find the courage to ask him how on earth had he been able to store the whole sun in that little space between his front teeth – yes, he would, but that could wait for another day.) 

_if it’s the end of the world, let’s party_  
_like it’s the end of the world, let’s party_  
_wrap your arms around everybody_  
_if we’re all gonna die, let’s party_

The fingers ran lazily upon the ivory keys of the piano, its notes dissolving among the chaos that was coming from downstairs.  
The man strolled across the room, reaching the small circular table he had near his bed; he then grabbed the silver frame standing upon it and gazed lovingly at the picture it contained: there was Jim as a little boy, surrounded by his family and with a big toothy grin plastered upon his face.  
(He loved that that photo was always the first thing he could see when he woke up in the morning.)

_let’s party_  
_let’s party_  
_let’s party_  
_let’s party_

While Freddie was putting the frame back, he felt a little presence between his ankles.  
“What are you doing, you naughty princess?” he let out a delighted giggle, scooping Delilah up and bringing her near the other tea table “Want to have a look at all the photos of your daddies?”  
The cat let out a yawn and scooted closer to him, not taking an interest in what her owner was showing her.  
“You really are a spoiled thing, aren’t you?” the man laughed again, scratching her under the chin and perusing the other pictures at the same time: there he was, wearing a sombrero and grinning like a fool in the company of Roger, and then he was in the studio, handing a sheet full of lyrics to Brian, who was gently smiling back at him, and in the next one John and him were in Japan, with their tea cups still clenched in their hands and not the slightest intention of stopping to smile anytime soon…  
“We sure had a pretty dandy time, right?” he talked to the cat, slowly approaching the bed and letting himself flop on it “And I also think that everybody is having it this evening too”  
Delilah let out a lazy meow, curling herself on his lap, while Oscar, Tiffany and the other cats had finally caught up with the two of them; they seemed to appreciate the quiet of the room and proceeded to scatter all over it.  
“Whatever happens, I’ll be ready” Freddie admitted, gently stroking Delilah’s soft fur “Now I truly am.”

_there’s a party going on in here_  
_it’s been happening for many years_

“Freddie, it’s Delilah”  
Jim takes Freddie’s hand and carefully starts stroking the cat’s coat with it: his fingers are paper-thin and pale, but the softness of the fur and Delilah’s purrs make his dry lips curl into a blissful smile.  
_My sweet girl._

_and even if it all goes bad_

“Didn’t anyone think that I would have liked to be waken up, once the guests had started to head home?!” the man mutters, slowly raising from the armchair and looking at the clock in horror “Shit, I slept in and it’s already morning and – but Phoebe will hear it from me, _oh, he will_ …!”  
He jogs to the window and sticks his head out of it, yelling a shrill _‘Cooee!’_ full of delight and blowing a kiss at the man that’s trimming the bush of yellow roses, his favourites – the object of his affections promptly catches it with a hand, puts it inside a pocket and waves at him with a huge grin.  
Freddie does the same and goes back at his bedside: he climbs on the bed and enfolds Jim in his arms, leaning against him.  
“The party was a success and everybody had the time of their lives… now you need to rest, my love. I’m ready as I’ll ever be, you won’t have to worry anymore.”  
He gently kisses his tears away, then focuses his attention on the corpse that’s laying under the sheets, letting his fingertips wander over his face – he shuts his eyelids, caresses the placid curve of his lips – and goes towards the door; once at the threshold, he stops and looks over his shoulder.  
“You were really brave. _Both of you_.” he says with a proud smile, then crosses the doorstep and closes the door behind him.  
Whatever’s waiting for him, he’s finally ready.

_it was the best time we ever had_

**Author's Note:**

> From the first time I heard this song – back in 2015 – I knew that someday I would have written a Freddie-centric song-fic with it as a sort of “path” that could guide me during the difficult process of writing.  
> I’m glad I was able to fulfill this silly dream of mine – even if the final result doesn’t completely satisfy me, but whatevs!
> 
> In the next days I’ll probably update these notes by adding a few facts that I quoted in the fanfiction and that maybe some people still don’t know...  
> For now, let me thank my dear friend [Ginevra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyx/pseuds/Jolly%20Camaleonte) for her undying support and help to make me overcome an awful writer’s block – and for her total willingness to share with me her amazing headcanons and powerful attacks of fangirling (Joe Mazzello and Ben Hardy, it’s all your goddamn fault!); I love you, girl! 💝
> 
> Thanks to whoever will read this/give kudos/leave a review... and let’s snatch a few Oscars! ✨


End file.
